


in iure

by Imperial_Dragon



Series: Imperial Earth [7]
Category: 2770 ab urbe condita - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Non-Sexual Slavery, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Trials, legal system
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27119173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imperial_Dragon/pseuds/Imperial_Dragon
Summary: In iure – a trial before the praetor; before the lawThe Roman youths go on trial before Antonia Gordiana. Their fate is sealed, but how will they cope with the sentence of slavery?
Series: Imperial Earth [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1136804
Comments: 28
Kudos: 22
Collections: 2770 ab urbe condita - the collected fiction





	1. Transit

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time coming.....
> 
> Translations in the end notes

Arruns shuffled his feet and yawned in the predawn outside the Imperial Brothel of the Trajan Baths. It was fucking freezing. Even encased in thick wool socks, his toes had started to numb as the wind whipped his warmth away. Fuck winter. and fuck getting up early.

He could go back into the lobby, but then he’d have to talk to Dierdre, the late night/early morning receptionist, and he didn’t want to. She would try to cheer him up, and tell him he had no reason to worry about any of what the day would bring, especially not the trip to the Curia, in the Basilica Julia, where the trial would be held. She had already told him that it was straight forward – just wait for the bus for the Imperial slaves, get on and get off at the destination. It was all right for her; she’d travelled on the bus many times. And when she asked what was so frightening Arruns couldn’t even work out what scared him most.

There was the bus trip itself. He’d used the Subterra to get between his previous master’s apartment and the working grounds around the Forum Romanum and the Theatrum Vitruvii, but everyone did that. The slave carriages might be shabby but you sat or stood, and got on or off as you needed. On this bus, though, he wouldn’t be able to do that. He’d been on a slave transport a few times as part of the sales process, and hated being tightly clipped in and forced to sit on a hard seat while naked. This trip wasn’t far, but Arruns could do without the process of restraint, even if he didn’t have to strip.

Or this might not be like a proper slave transport at all. At least he knew what to expect with transports. Yesterday was the first time he’d even travelled in a car, and he was pretty sure that this trip would be nothing like that. He should have asked what he was meant to do, and who would be a fellow passenger. Free people could be on the bus. How would he deal with free people sitting close? Dierdre said the bus was not very big, so would he see the driver? The driver had to be free so they could have a licence, and they might be mean.

And if he stopped worrying about the bus trip he might start worrying about the rest of the day.

So Arruns clutched his pillow to his chest in the cold, and waited miserably for the bus.

It arrived on time; a nondescript white van with a thin purple stripe. It pulled up next to him. The driver opened his window.

“You Arruns?” he asked. “For the Curia?”

“Yes, sir,” Arruns replied, not quite daring to look up.

“Well, hop in.” The driver jerked his head to vaguely indicate the back of the van.

That was what Arruns was afraid of. He didn’t know much about vans, but he knew that the door was on the other side and obediently shuffled around to the other side of the vehicle. There was a door, and a handle, and since the door did not open by itself, he had to open it. But slaves were forbidden to touch the slave transports. It felt like being physically torn apart: his hand pulled to the door handle by the need to obey, and pulled back by the fear of punishment. But he knew what he needed to do. Arruns took a deep breath, reached out to the door handle and pulled. The handle moved but the door didn’t. It looked like the door slid sideways so he pushed to the left. Nothing moved. Maybe the door was stuck, or it didn’t work for slaves. Fuck this bus and its door to Hades! He should-

But he was too late. The driver had got sick of waiting and now stood beside him. He was a big man, maybe a little soft, but surely plenty strong enough to give him a good beating.

“Having trouble, kid?” the driver asked mildly.

“Sorry, sir,” Arruns said humbly. “I don’t know how to open the door.”

“Ah. If you have problems in future, let me know, or someone in charge. Right now, grab the handle, pull it out and pull to the right. You’ll need to give it a good yank, the door gets stuck.”

Gathering his strength, Arruns did as ordered, and the door flew aside with a bang. Arruns jerked in surprise before looking inside the van. All the passengers, and there were a lot, stared at him. Arruns shrank back from the concentrated gaze of their eyes.

“Right, you lot,” the driver said, “this is Arruns. He’s going to the Basilica Julia for the trial, and he’s new. Be nice.”

His voice remained mild, but firm. He gently prodded Arruns forward and up the step. Arruns stepped up cautiously, holding himself stiffly to spare his ribs as much as possible. He glanced around; most people on the bus wore nondescript tunics with a wrap but at the back of the bus sat a few people wearing togas. So this was not just a slave bus but carried free citizens too.

There was a seat right by the door and he managed to get himself seated with only minimal twinges. The driver shut the door with a bang. This was nothing like the slave transports he had been shipped in before, or the car from yesterday. The seat was padded and there were no chains. But the seats were covered in scratchy fabric, not the soft leather he had sat on next to Val in the car, and the interior was scuffed and worn. 

Beside him a pretty woman, in her twenties, was concentrating on her phone. Under a thick cloak Arruns glimpsed the sheen of thin, rosy silk; her blonde hair was held up by bright pins, inexpensive but not the nasty cheap tat his old master had given him. She was expertly made up, and Arruns would have thought she was a whore if he had seen her in the street.

The bus started up smoothly, and Arruns wondered how long it would take to get to his destination.

“Arruns?” one of the men behind him muttered. “Arruns. Oh. Look, he’s a witness. He shouldn’t really be on this bus with us.”

Arruns tensed. He’d been told to get on a bus; surely this was the right one.

“Don’t be so precious,” the woman beside Arruns said, not looking up from her phone. “It’s not like this is a real trial with real defense advocates who could make a difference by witness tampering.”

“With their imperial cousin against them, we are the last chance for those kids,” the man said indignantly. “We can’t risk anyone thinking we’ve done anything underhand. You don’t understand these things, Myrtale, ‘cos you are just a lupa.”

Myrtale put her phone down and twisted round to glare at the back. “Oh, and who is feeling so up himself because he got his cap of freedom? I understand plenty, cule, because I keep my ears open, and I know there ain’t nothing you can do for your reus. Decisions have been made up the Palatine, and you can flap your mouth as much as you want but it won’t help, even if your reus really was innocent.”

Arruns cringed. Myrtale seemed sure of herself, but surely insulting even a freed man would mean punishment.

“Would you two shut up?” On the other side of Myrtale sat a pretty boy, now also looking up from his phone. “With all this bickering, if this was a rom-com we’d be catering for the marriage feast by now. Except none of you boys back there are good enough for Myrtale, unless you have a few sesterces to pay for her time.”

Myrtale savagely rammed her elbow into the boy’s side, but he just sniggered.

“I wouldn’t see her professionally if she was the last whore in the entire empire,” the man behind said.

Myrtale muttered, “Good.”

The van stopped, and the driver’s voice crackled from a speaker. “Tullianum.”

A slave from the back scrambled forward to open the door, followed by a man and a woman, both wearing togas. They all exited the van, another slave jumped in and the van set off again. It was a very slick operation.

“Two asses on a wedding within three months,” the boy said, and “Ow!” when Myrtale jabbed him again.

“You’re on,” someone else behind them said, to the accompaniment of a lot of giggling.

Ignoring the rest of the conversation, Myrtale turned to Arruns. “You’re the new boy at the Trajan. Me and the boy here are from the Diocletian Baths. If you do get picked to work at the Basilica Julia I expect you’ll usually walk there, not take this crappy bus.”

Arruns had loitered outside the Basilica Julia often enough when he worked in the Forum Romanun. Apart from the Curia, it contained the courts of the aedile which tried lesser crimes, and where he and his old master would have been tried if he’d ever been picked up for his illegal prostitution, as well as the office where he ought to have been registered for taxation, and was the site of all sorts of other civic business. Arruns could not see what work whores like Myrtale and the boy could be doing in such a forbidding and respectable building. 

“What do you do there?” If Arruns might work there in future, this was an opportunity to ask what went on.

“Fuck and suck.” Myrtale snorted. “It’s pretty basic. We don’t get that much custom – the advocati usually come quicker over winning a point of law than in a pretty slave. But sometimes after a big win – you see, most jurists can only bring one slave to the court, and usually that’s the crafty and crusty old boy or girl they’ve owned since Hadrian was emperor, and in that case - here I am!”

“Why do they need slaves from the brothel? Can’t they order a slave in, if they want to fuck?” That could have been a nice little earner for a poor slave boy desperate for clients.

“It’s a stupid arrangement,” the boy said. “Apparently, ages ago a consul thought that having slaves available for sex at a moment’s notice would reduce the harassment of women jurists, which was about as successful as you might expect. But the service was offered and now it can’t be withdrawn. It’s annoying because we don’t get much peculium, although they give us a covering fee.”

“It’s not so bad,” Myrtale said, “if you can be bothered to work up a clientele. _Some_ of us take pride in customer satisfaction.”

“Some of us want to get married out of slavery,” said the boy, “and some of us recognise a far-fetched fantasy when we hear one.”

“I’ll have you know-“ 

“Basilica Julia,” said the driver.

A slave from the seats behind opened the door and jumped out. At least Arruns did not have to learn how to open the door from the inside too. He looked out apprehensively as other slaves left the bus. Ahead of him was another day where he knew nothing and just did as he was told – another day in the life of a slave.

“Is anyone waiting for you?” Myrtale asked as she fumbled on the floor to find her bag and picked up Arruns’s bag too.

“Someone called Helvia.” At least someone had been assigned to help him, and so far everything had worked out fine since Valentine had bought him. So maybe Helvia would be a helpful person, and he would not end up being dragged away to a cell somewhere himself after the trial for being rude to the praetor.

That left Arruns more cheerful as he tried to carefully get out of the seat without hurting his ribs but the space was too small. Myrtale gave him a cautious helping hand, and he managed to get up and out of the van with only minor twinges.

“I don’t know Helvia,” Myrtale said, and looked speculative.

They had stopped in a back courtyard, where no one bothered to add the decoration that featured on the grand facades, the place where the recycling bins were stored and supplies delivered. At least the lights were on, as the dawn light had not yet reached this yard surrounded by high buildings. It was busy, as slaves and working people bustled about, and Arruns suddenly realised that he did not know what Helvia looked like.

A woman stepped out from the crowd. She was not tall but dark, round and solid. The plain tunic she was wearing indicated her slavery, even though the tunic covered her down to her calves. A white scarf wrapped around her hair allowed long locks to dangle free. 

“Are you Arruns?” Arruns nodded. “I’m Helvia. You’ll be with me for the trial.” 

Helvia took Arruns’s bag from Myrtale. “Thanks for looking after Arruns,” she said graciously. “Come on, Arruns. I’ll get you settled in.”

With a little wave at Myrtale and the boy, Arruns set off after his new minder, heading for the back entrance to the Basilica. Helvia walked briskly, but slowed down as she realised that Arruns could not keep up.

“Welcome to the Basilica Julia,” she said. “Is this your first visit?”

“It’s the first time I’ve been inside,” Arruns said. “I won’t know where to go or what to do.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Helvia said, smiling kindly at him. “I’ve been studying law – I’ve just got two more years – and I’m down here from Bononia Universitas to intern as a iuris consultus, mainly on minor cases so far. This is the biggest case I’ve worked on and it is so exciting. Valentine wanted someone to look after you, and I jumped at the chance. I can tell you what is going on too – did you know that this trial is cognitio extra ordinem?”

“No, Helvia. What’s a cognitio?” The moment he asked, Arruns realised he’d made a mistake. Helvia looked at him with a huge smile on her face.

“Let me tell you all about it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> _curia_ the meeting-house of the Roman senate  
>  _Basilica Julia_ Large building on the Forum Romanum, which now contains the curia, courts of the aedile and civic business offices  
>  _Subterra_ underground railway  
> Forum Romanum Ceremonial and political centre of Rome  
>  _lupa_ prostitute  
>  _cule_ arsehole  
>  _reus, pl. rei_ the accused, defendant, culprit, criminal, also used for someone condemned to slavery for a period of time as a punishment  
>  _Tullianum_ Located near the law courts, the Tullianum was used as a jail or holding cell for short periods before a trial or execution. The holding cells are all above ground; the original underground prisons are an historic site and tourist attraction  
>  _aedile_ a junior magistrate; the aedile tries minor crimes of public order, traffic offenses, defacement of public buildings, food hygiene, commercial crimes, irregularities in the sale of slaves and animals, etc  
>  _advocatus, pl. advocati_ lawyer who can act for a client and speak for them in court; freedmen and women can become an advocate  
>  _jurist (iuris)_ anyone professionally involved in the legal system, so includes consultants, advocates, judges and magistrates  
>  _praetor_ principal magistrate judging serious cases, has full imperium to deal with legal issues, judgements give precedents for future cases  
>  _Bononia Universitas_ Bologna University, the foremost and oldest school of law in the Empire  
>  _iuris consultus_ someone who can be consulted for a legal opinion or who can research the legal system for an answer; it needs at least 3 years of legal education to reach this level. Ingenui (freeborn people) spend a few years acting as iuris consultus while liberti spend longer, until they can be freed  
>  _cognitio_ an enquiry or trial conducted by a single magistrate, the usual sort of trial


	2. Chapter 2

While Arruns and Helvia waited in a queue to get into the Basilica Julia, Helvia explained all about a cognito, which turned out to mean a trial where the whole process was under the control of the praetor, and extra ordinem just meant that the praetor had the imperium to change the rules. By then they had reached the guards stationed at the door; not the urban cohorts with the usual SPQR and fasces emblazoned on the tunic, but tall figures with gold thunderbolt pins on the collars of their heavy black tunics, carrying big guns.

“Praetorians,” Helvia whispered.

Arruns was glad to know that. The usual guards of the Basilica chased off any prostitutes and loiterers that gathered in the Forum Romanum outside the building with particular gusto, while the Praetorians at the scene of the fight had treated him with brisk efficiency, and a little kindness. He knew who he preferred.

Before they entered the Basilica both Arruns and Helvia had to scan their fingerprints under the gaze of the armed soldiers. They were let through, while other people, both slave and free, were turned away.

“The Basilica Julia is closed to normal business,” the Praetorian Guards told anyone who argued. The synthesized voice and the mirrored visor made them look like robots to Arruns. Not many people argued.

Inside the door something beeped when Arruns went through. There was a moving shelf just through the door. Helvia put his bag on the shelf which took it through a box, and took his pillow to put that on too. Arruns wondered if they would come out again, but, as they walked along, he saw them emerge unharmed. One of the guards took everything and went to a table where she dumped everything down and started going through the bag.

Arruns sneaked a look around. At the edges of the big atrium stood the guards with their masks and guns, but the guards at the tables didn’t wear the visors. At the next table over Myrtale and the boy were having their belongings inspected; Myrtale flashed Arruns a grin. It looked like, even if normal business was not scheduled, stress relief was still needed.

The guard at Arruns’ table was carefully reading the written prescription. A guard with a small floppy eared dog walked along the tables, letting the dog sniff at everything. The guard put everything back in the bag and put it and the pillow on the floor. Arruns inched closer to Helvia as the dog approached. His second master had had dogs, although this one was cuter. It sniffed at the items but showed no interest and trotted off to the next table.

“You’ll need to see the tessarius to get all this signed off and a security clearance,” the guard said. She sent them to stand in the next queue.

“Most trials are not extra ordinem.” Helvia continued straight on from her explanation in the courtyard. “The last trials of that nature in Rome were the trials of the coup plotters, and that was five years ago. And some civil trials since, but they concerned ius privatum so they don’t count in terms of public interest.”

“No, Helvia.” He’d heard about the coup and the trials. Master Tibby had not let his boys watch the executions. But did he really need to know about ius privatum?

“And procedurally this trial is unique, because they’re trying to get through the whole thing in one day, which is very reminiscent of the Revolutionary Tribunals of the Second Republic, except they had a consilium iudicum and not just a magistrate, so they could distribute the blame among the people. Augustus can’t do that; he’ll have to put up with any blame himself.” Helvia frowned. “So it’s more like the trials in the last years of the Second Empire, the ones the last Emperor conducted himself, which will be why our Augustus has sent the trial to a proper magistrate, because he really doesn’t want people reminded of those times!”

She’d lost Arruns completely. Such education as he had, courtesy of the Etruscan obsessed Ti. Roscius Bibulous, ended historically at around the year 550 auc. What he knew of the later events of the Second Empire and Republic he’d picked up from the scraps of historical dramas seen on TV in passing, or in discarded copies of magazines like a very old Ave! serve issue he’d found, which mainly concentrated on why it was better to be a slave today. He didn’t think he needed to know this, but maybe he was wrong; after all, Dierdre had said Helvia would tell him what he needed to know.

“Will I be asked about this?” he asked, unable to quell the unease that testing his knowledge always brought. “Will there be a test? I don’t think I could remember it all.”

“Oh, no!” Helvia said, and laughed. “I’m sorry, Arruns, it’s me - the rubbish I’ve been saying has nothing to do with you. I’ve got an essay to write, for Legal History 301, and I was starting to think about using this trial in it – show trials of the last millennium, or something. But I suspect that everyone in my class will be using this trial for their essay, so maybe not.” She shrugged. “I’ll explain what you need to know when we get to the room set aside for the witnesses. Don’t worry – your part is very simple.”

Arruns suspected that that ‘simple’ meant something different to her than it did to him.

They had reached the head of the queue, and from behind the desk a tesserarius of the Praetorian Guard glanced up at them. He looked tired.

“Yes?”

“Sir, may I present Arruns, an Imperial slave assigned to the Thermae Traianae-”

The tesserarius perked up. “Here to work, are you, pretty boy?”

“-summoned as a witness to the trial under Antonia Gordiana.” Helvia spoke clearly, standing tall but with her gaze lowered. “Arruns has a prescription that needs to be signed off, sir, and we need security clearance for access to the court.”

The tesserarius deflated. “And who are you?”

“Helvia, sir, assigned to assist Arruns throughout the court procedure.” She did not relax her posture. Arruns struggled to copy her, wincing when an incautious move tugged at his ribs.

“Huh.” The tessarius took the prescription and looked over the drugs in their packet before handing them back and tapping away on the tablet in the desk. “I’ve entered an alert into the Basilica database. Any queries on Arruns will be flagged for attention. I see that he does not have a full imperial slave entry?”

“Arruns was acquired only yesterday, sir. I’m sure his record will be updated very soon.”

“Hm.” The tesserarius took a card on a cord from a drawer and touched it to a plate. “Here’s a swipe for him.” He handed the card to Helvia, who passed it on to Arruns. “That will identify him as part of the trial and give him access to the correct rooms. You’ll need to see the Curia protocol manager then, and the registrārius of the court. Off you go.”

He waved them away to yet another desk, which had a short queue before it. Arruns had always wondered what happened in the buildings around the Forum, when he wandered around the city looking for customers, always on the outside. He’d never imagined that people spent most of their time in a queue. It looked like this queue could be the last as it was right before another door.

When they got to the front of the queue there were two people at the desk.

“Sir and ma’am, may I –“

“Names,” the woman said crisply.

“Arruns and Helvia, ma’am.”

The woman flicked through her tabula. “Witness and amicus. Room 20 will do. I see Arruns has an alert.”

“He has a prescription, ma’am.” Helvia handed over the paper, for yet another inspection.

The woman scanned it silently and handed it over to her colleague. 

“We have other witnesses with similar issues so you can be seated with them, after Arruns’s testimony,” the man said. “The attendant will give you instructions.”

He waved them away to the door, monitored by another blank Praetorian. It slid open to reveal a long corridor, narrow, undecorated and floored in a simple black and white pattern. Several slaves waited beyond the door. A tabula beeped, and a slave stepped forward.

“Arruns and Helvia?” They nodded. “Follow me.”

He set off down the corridor at a brisk pace. There were doors to either side, and a Praetorian Guard partway down. Arruns felt as if he should carefully skirt around the guard as there wasn’t much room to pass, but Helvia and the other slave just walked past normally, and Arruns forced himself to do the same.

“I’ll be glad when this is all over,” the slave grumbled quietly. “We expected the Emperor and Praetorian Guard yesterday, they’re always a disruption, but we weren’t ready for the Emperor’s visit today.”

The Emperor? Here? In the same building? For a moment Arruns had he horrible feeling that the Emperor would pop out from the door ahead, or from behind him and accuse him of something. That was stupid – he was a bug on the floor to someone exalted like the Emperor, but the shock of fear left him shaky. He stumbled and almost tripped to his knees. Helvia grabbed his arm.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Even if it was a stupid worry, Arruns thought that he might as well set his mind at rest. “I won’t have to see the Emperor, will I? He’s not here for me.”

Helvia and the slave glanced at one another. The man grinned.

“I’ll leave you to deal with this,” the man said.

Arruns had only a moment to wonder what he meant before they reached the door at the end of the corridor. The slave touched a panel, and the door opened onto a different world that drove everything from his mind. A spacious corridor stretched ahead, with an impluvium as if this were an atrium, and a garden painted on the walls. As they walked down the corridor Arruns realised the pool was not real; it was just a clever illusion in mosaic. Despite everything that was happening, the bright painted flowers and birds lifted his spirits. 

“Here you go,” said the slave, leading them to a door disguised as a garden gate. “Room 20.” He opened the door to a sumptuously appointed sitting room. “You’ll stay here until you are called to give testimony. There’s food and drink on the table – don’t use anything else.” He pointed to a button by the door. “That’s to call in an emergency. Use all the facilities – there’s a latrine over there. I imagine it will be some time before you are called so there will be plenty of time for any explanations needed. I’ll leave you to it!”

He ducked out the door while Arruns was still in shock from being in this room. The cream and gold furniture looked too pristine to sit on; even in his nice clean tunic Arruns felt he would dirty them if he sat. Helvia had no such compunction as she plonked herself onto a couch.

“This is a bit of all right,” she said, looking around. “We’ve scored a senatorial withdrawing room, I think, where all the political skulduggery happens in private. Come on, sit down – or maybe you should lie down. How are your ribs?”

She leapt up and fussed over Arruns. It was a little uncomfortable since he’d never been fussed over so much in his life before. He couldn’t recline with his ribs still sore so she propped him up with pillows and handed him a plate. He wasn’t too hungry, but he knew to eat when he could; as a slave you never knew when you would be allowed food.

She sat down and regarded him carefully. “So I had better explain everything to you, or I can see you’d freak out before the praetor, and we don’t want that,” and Helvia launched into the strangest story Arruns had ever heard, while he nibbled on delicacies he had never dreamed of eating, in a room beyond his imagination.

Even after she finished, Arruns found he did not really follow the story properly, mainly because he could not understand how the Emperor could think of selling his cousins – his own family! Arruns had never had a proper forever family the way free people did, but if he did there was no way he could ever sell anyone into slavery. No way. It was horrible – but if the Emperor had decided it was right, then it must be right.

“And I mean – selling family?” Helvia continued. “I can’t understand it. But now you know what’s happening – do you think you will be alright giving evidence? You won’t have to look at the Emperor at all, just the praetor, and answer her questions.”

Arruns nodded. “You’ll be with me, won’t you?”

“Yeah.” Helvia grinned at him. “You won’t be on your own. Now, I think you should have a nap. You are still recovering from your injuries, and I think it has already been a long morning for you. I won’t let you sleep too long so don’t worry about waking up groggy.”

“I don’t know that I can sleep now.” He had got up very early and was tired, but his head was whirling with memories of the fight and worries for the future – which of the attackers were the imperial cousins, who had kicked him, what the praetor might say, the Emperor-

“Have you ever met the Emperor?” he asked. “Since you belong to him.”

She laughed. “Not really. I only saw him close up when I was given to him, on the day he assumed the toga virilis. I was a gift from the Wagadu Province, from the Ghana himself, and I was lined up with fourteen other children, in the nuddy of course, but he barely glanced at us before we were led away, and he won’t take any more notice of you. Now, lie down,” Helvia ordered, and covered him with a blanket. She patted his hand. “If you can’t sleep, why don’t I tell you about my studies at Bononia? I’m sure you’ll find it very interesting.”

It wasn’t. The Imperial Legal System: Legal Method and Institutions was a first-year course providing a foundation in case analysis, statutory interpretation and legal reasoning, as Helvia told him in exhaustive detail.

“And a descriptive outline of the whole legal system, including the ancient world as a source of law, as well as the modern sources of the Emperor and Senate, and the role of ius praetorium-“

Arruns wondered how different her life must have been from his own to be so enthusiastic about the law; in his experience the law had little to do with slaves. It all seemed so far from his own life, and so hard to follow.

“…and how the courts are structured, so which cases are tried in the trĭbūnăl aedilis curulis versus the trĭbūnăl praetoris. The aediles try most of the minor cases; the kids could’ve expected to have a trial there, except for the politics. Most of the procedure is the same, such as the rules for discovery…”

He was drifting to sleep as Helvia started on the role of the trĭbūnăl consulis, and entirely missed Helvia’s description of the trĭbūnăl Imperatoris Caesaris Augusti. He barely stirred when Helvia tucked his hands under the blanket and dimmed the lights, snuggling under the blanket and surrendering to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> _cognito extra ordinem_ a trial where the case is examined by a magistrate, who has sole conduct of the case and can admit whatever evidence the magistrate deems important, and has considerable discretion in rendering a judgement  
>  _cohortes urbanae_ (urban cohorts), are part of the armed forces, whose primary role is to police Rome and other cities alongside the _vigiles custodes_ or police. The urban cohorts act as a heavy duty police force, capable of riot control duties.  
> Praetorian Guard personal military guards of the Emperor, part of the armed forces  
>  _ius privatum_ private law, the law between citizens  
>  _tesserarius_ administrative assistant, officer of the watch, (like a U.K. corporal) Originally a Legionary rank  
>  _consilium iudicum_ council of judges  
>  _Thermae Traianae_ Baths of Trajan  
>  _registrārius_ registrar, Court registry officers assist with the day-to-day operation of courts. They handle court documents, schedules and may support the judge in running court hearings.  
>  _amicus_ friend  
>  _impluvium_ the square basin in the centre of the atrium of an ancient Roman house, which received rainwater from an opening in the roof  
>  _toga virilis_ the white toga of adulthood, usually assumed at 14 or 15  
> Wagadu Province Located in West Aethiopia,  
> The Ghana The ceremonial war chief of Wagadu, still an important figure in the province with considerable influence in the region  
>  _ius praetorium_ law created by the praetors  
>  _trĭbūnăl aedilis curulis_ Court of the aediles curales, tries minor cases of public order and security, traffic, breach of market regulations, fraud  
>  _trĭbūnăl praetoris_ Court of the praetor, the usual high court, competent to deal with all matters civil or criminal (particular praetors may specialise in the type of law they try). Tries cases that can end in slavery or capital punishment  
>  _trĭbūnăl consulis_ Court of the consul, normally acts at the court of appeal but can hear important cases  
>  _trĭbūnăl Imperatoris Caesaris Augusti_ Court of Imperator Caesar Augustus, court where the Serene Emperor is the judge, the final court of appeal – while Augustus can judge serious matters, this court can also adjudicate on trivial matters, especially if they might amuse the Emperor


	3. in carcere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Licinus meets his advocatus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations at the end of the chapter

The light flicking on woke Licinus, cold and aching from sleeping on a thin mattress. He was still in the cell in the Tullianum, a bleak little room painted a soothing scum green. For a moment he considered hiding under the thin blanket but there was no way he could pretend he was somewhere else, like at home on a comfortable mattress, with his mother complaining that he needed to get up now. Especially since he now had no home, no comfortable mattress, and no mother.

He needed to stop fretting about the future or the past. Yesterday, as part of the advice the slaves had given him, Susan had been very clear that slaves had to focus on the present for their mental health. It was time to start taking her advice. So he stood up, used the toilet, and pulled his tunic on over the undertunic he had slept in. Just as he finished, the hatch in the heavy door to his cell opened and a tray of food was pushed in.

“Get dressed and eat up, sir,” said whoever delivered the food. “Your advocatus will be visiting very shortly, and then you will be taken to the court.”

As soon as Licinus had taken the tray the person outside the door left, before Licinus had a chance to question him, and the hatch slammed shut. He’d just have to wait for the advocate. He put down the tray and wrapped the pallium, which he had draped over his blanket overnight, around him. It was wrinkled, and his undertunic smelled of sweat. At least his tunic didn’t look too shabby. 

The food turned out to be bread, a small cup of well-watered wine, a dollop of beans and vegetables and a small dash of garum. It was edible at least, and Licinus tried not to wonder whether this was a better breakfast than he could expect as a slave. He didn’t even know what the slaves at home – that is, at the Menenius house – ate for breakfast. He had certainly seen the slaves eat but had no idea what it was they actually ate, because he had never paid any attention.

Once he had finished the meal, he could only wait, but it did not take long for his advocate to arrive. The door opened to a tall Aethiopian man, wrapped in a snowy toga.

“May I come in?” he asked, speaking in a strong provincial Aksum accent.

“Please,” Licinus said, only too aware that the courtesy due a free man would not last beyond the court case.

A slave accompanied the advocate, bearing a folding chair and tabula rest. While he set these up, the advocate held out his hand.

“I am Eonius Gersemius Ebana,” he said. “Your court-appointed advocatus.”

“Licinus.” Without a family name to accompany it, Licinus sounded lonely and vulnerable without the other names that had always accompanied it, and the protection they offered. He shook Ebana’s hand. “I didn’t think I would have an advocate, as we aren’t allowed to offer a defence. Unless-”

Despite everything he had heard, a sudden hope arose in Licinus – a possibility to argue his innocence, a way out. But his heart plummeted when Ebana shook his head.

“No, I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Now – oh, you can’t appear in court in those clothes-“ he waved at Licinus’s tunic and pallium. “Durio, bring Licinus a tunic and toga – nice ones, no rips.”

“Yes, sir.” Durio bowed and hurried away. Licinus realised he had forgotten the slave was there, an indication of his own importance in a few hours.

The advocatus sat on his chair; Licinus sat on the bed as there was nowhere else.

“The families of the other free rei have sent care packages, but you don’t have a family now so you’ll have to wear the charity clothes.” Ebana shrugged. “Well, I’m a fully qualified advocatus and graduated from the University of Aksum a year ago, and I’m doing legal aid pro bono on behalf of the firm Gersem Gersem Solomon and Sembrouthes. I’d normally say that, if you object to me, another advocatus can defend you but there isn’t anyone else available, and anyway, no one can do any better for you. Your friends have advocates from the best legal firms in Rome, and they can’t do any more than me.”

“So you can’t do anything.” Licinus took a careful look at Ebana. He was probably in his early thirties, a bit too old for such tiro work as defending the indefensible, and his toga was new. He was probably a libertus who had worked his way through the client programme and recently freed, which meant that he at least knew his law. “Even though an innocent man is to be condemned to slavery.”

“I didn’t say there was nothing I could do,” Ebana said. “The decision to enslave you has been made at the highest levels, but I managed to negotiate some better conditions of sale – in particular, you may be granted an easier chance at an early release and an early return to full citizenship.”

Early release, Licinus thought. Better than nothing but –

“I am innocent,” he said. “Why is the Serene Emperor insisting that I be charged when any court would exonerate me?”

“Politics, imperial family or imperial Roman.” Ebana shrugged. “It’s beyond me. But the Palatine has put a rush on the trial because one of the citizens who was attacked has a traumatic brain injury and they are worried he will die before you are all disposed of. I pushed for a trial for you, but, if you are tried, then the families will all want _their_ children tried. If the citizen dies, you are all liable for the sentence for murder – slavery with hard labour, and you would never be eligible for full citizenship, or possibly never even gain freedom. The emperor does not want to risk that with his cousins.”

“So I am sentenced to slavery merely for convenience,” Licinus said grimly. It made a horrible sort of sense – one man’s freedom in exchange for the safety of another.

Ebana shrugged again. “I’ve done all I could. I know it is hard, being sentenced to slavery when you shouldn’t be but-“

“You don’t know anything,” Licinus said furiously. He’d swallowed the bitterness and rage from his unjust treatment because there was nothing his anger could do to help himself, but right here and now, with this advocatus telling him to get over it, there was no reason not to let it out. “How can you understand what it is to be made a slave unjustly-“

“Stop right there.” Ebana stared him down. “You must have worked out that I’m a freedman. And what justice made me into a slave, and you into a free citizen? You will serve your five years, and at the end you can still be whatever you want – a soldier, a senator, a magistrate – while I’ll never be more than an advocatus.” He paused, then continued more quietly. “You are entering a new life and for the first time you’ll need to think about how slaves look at the world, or you’ll never make friends. You’ll learn, but a heads up here – don’t start whining about the injustice that has been done to you.”

“I know you’re right but-“ It’s not fair. He could practically hear the whine in his voice. “It’s happening so fast and I don’t know what to do.”

“Do as you are told would be a good start. It’s all you can do really.” Ebana glanced to the door. “Durio, thank you.”

Licinus started. How long had Durio been there? How had he crept to his place without Licinus noticing? Was Durio quiet and sneaky, or was he himself too oblivious to the presence of slaves? 

Durio stood in the doorway, carrying a pile of cloth, and he bowed to Licinus and Ebana. “I have a tunic and toga for your appearance before the magistrate, sir.”

He held them out to Licinus, who looked at them with a sinking heart. Neither garment was as white as Licinus was used to; over bleaching had left yellow stains on the tunic and the toga was dingy. The fabric was flimsy and limp.

“Do I have to wear these?” Licinus asked in dismay.

“It’s clean, sir.” Durio held out the limp tunic.

“But I’ve got a tunic,” Licinus said, gesturing at the tunic he was wearing. It was a much better tunic too, since it was thick and warm.

“It’s not a slave tunic,” Ebana pointed out. “It’s too long. I mean, if you don’t _mind_ being stripped naked in the court so you can be given a proper slave tunic -“

Licinus grabbed the tunic. “Fine.” 

He pulled his good tunics over his head, dropped them to the ground and pulled on the slave tunic. Licinus shuddered: it was too thin and drooped over his body. The toga Durio handed over next was even worse: stale smelling, and it had no body so wouldn’t drape properly. It was nothing like his own toga. Of course, he no longer had his own toga, or any belongings, or family; all gone, and soon his freedom too.

“The regulation length for a slave tunic is three inches above the knee when unbelted,” Ebana said. “Of course, your master can dress you in whatever he wants. I expect you’ll be given a much nicer tunic when you are purchased.”

“What happens with all this then?” Licinus waved at the detritus of his former life.

“Usually your family would pick it up. In your case, it’ll confiscated by the Tullianum and sold. Or you can give it away to anyone you like. Did you have any other property taken when you were arrested?”

“Just my phone and a bit of money.”

“You’re certainly entitled to your property until you are found guilty,” Ebana said. “Durio, could you see if Intake has Licinus’s items and collect them it they are there?”

“Certainly, sir,” Durio said quietly and hurried away.

“I haven’t got anyone that I could give my clothes to.” He couldn’t contact his friends, and who would want old clothes? Normally he would give them to the slaves at home, which gave him an idea. “Can I give them to Durio? Would he want them? And the phone?”

“I’m sure he’d want them,” Ebana said. “Are you sure?”

Licinus nodded. “But how can I give them to him so that he can keep them? At home pater or mater did whatever was needed.”

“It just needs to be added to his slave registration. Then he can do what he likes with them – keep them or sell them. I can deal with the phone too – there is a system for downloading all your contacts and accounts, to be kept for you when you are freed, then the phone can be wiped and passed on. Is that what you want?”

It wasn’t what he really wanted but, if he was entering the world of slavery as a slave himself, he might as well start with an offering to Liberalitas, and hope that by starting out generously he might be so treated himself in future. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

Ebana tapped and swiped away at his tabula. “Right. So, you are charged with vis privata, which means you can’t be sold to just anyone, because violent slaves need a special licence for ownership.” He looked over his tabula at Licinus. “But you’ll note that you are not charged with vis publica, which could mean a sentence of at least ten years or even servus poenae. There were arguments from some prosecutors for that. But you will have to be careful about any violence in the future because that could mean your sentence would be revisited.”

Licinus could see that the consequences of his conviction would never end. Everywhere he went he would have to consider his actions in the light of a conviction for violence. Even full citizenship would not remove such a conviction from his census record. But now he was fretting about the future again – this was a lesson he would have to learn over and over.

“I’ll be with you when you stand before the praetor,’ Ebana continued, “so don’t worry about the correct etiquette. Not that you’ll need to speak. I understand that the interrogatio is to be left out as they don’t want to miss out on presenting the evidence if you plead guilty.”

Ending the trial early by admitting guilt sounded like a good idea right now to Licinus, but even that was not possible.

“Antonia Gordiana is hearing the case. She’s a good magistrate and judge but keen on the good old law and order so there will be no attempt on her part to make anything easier for you. Only the magistrate will be calling witnesses so you won’t be allowed to speak but you will have to sit through the testimony. Sentence should be passed early afternoon, and I’ve heard the sale will be in the evening.”

He shouldn’t think about the sale and all the humiliation that it would involve. The sale seemed like it would be the culmination and climax of all that had happened, yet it was just the beginning of his new life. Better to think about something else.

Fortunately, Durio arrived back with his possessions; just a phone and a wallet, a pitiful handful of items that normally he would not give a damn about. Now that he was about to lose them, Licinus felt surprisingly possessive and reluctant to let them go. But go they must, so he looked at Durio.

“Would you like these? And the clothes? There’s no one else, and you might be able to use them.”

Durio looked surprised. “For me? Yes, sir. If Master Ebana can arrange it. Thank you, sir. That is very kind.”

Ebana tapped furiously on his phone. “We should get this witnessed, as I have to take the phone away to get the contents saved and then wipe it for Durio. Best to get the tesserarius to record it, and then there can be no argument later. I suppose we’d better make our way to the atrium and get that done.”

Ebana picked up his tabula, and Durio gathered the chair and tabula rest. Licinus watched, wondering if his master or mistress would require this service from him. It looked like something he would have done for himself, even as a free man, when the family slaves were busy, but he’d never done this as a slave for someone else. Had Durio had training for this? He was starting to realise just how much he didn’t know about the lives of slaves. This was his chance to start learning.

“Have you worked in the Tullianum long, Durio?” he asked. “How did you come to be here? Did you get training? Do you like it?”

The slave startled, clearly not expecting to be addressed. “I was assigned here four years ago, sir. I’d worked in the prison over the Tiber so I was familiar with the work.”

“So how long have you worked for the prisons? Do they treat you well here?”

“Thirty years in the prisons, and I am treated as I deserve, sir.” Durio glanced about, hitched the chair up and shuffled his feet, looking at Ebana.

“Take the gear back to the store and meet us at the main desk downstairs,” Ebana ordered. “Quickly now.”

Durio hurried off immediately.

“There’s no need to be mean to Durio,” Licinus said indignantly. “We were just having a conversation.”

“No, you weren’t. You were ordering him to talk and tell you about his life, and whether he enjoyed his work.” Ebana sighed, and rubbed his eyes. “I know you’ve just realised that slaves are people with lives, and that you can learn from them, but you don’t just start interrogating someone when they can’t say no. And asking whether they like their work! What’s he going to say? The truth – or what you want to hear? He’s not your friend, and unless he’s your friend you have no right to his thoughts and feelings. How are you going to feel when some well-meaning ‘friend’ starts interrogating you?”

“I was just asking,” Licinus said, rather sullenly, because he knew Ebana had a point.

“There is no 'just asking' when a free man addresses a slave - not unless there is a long history between them. You’ll find that out soon enough. But I’ll tell you something of Durio’s situation, which is public enough that anyone can find it out. He’s nexus, enslaved with his family when he was very young, and brought up working in the prisons. As for working here - the food is adequate, he has a bed in a dormitory which is comfortable enough, I believe, and the punishments not too severe. The main problem is that nowadays there are few rich prisoners brought here, since the superior courts relocated to Trans Tiberim, so there are few tips and opportunities to earn peculium. Does that answer enough of your questions to stop pestering Durio?”

“Yes, thank you,” Licinus said, although he still had plenty of questions for someone, if he could find someone to ask.

“We’ll be getting on then,” Ebana said, and gestured Licinus to proceed him out of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> _Tullianum_ Located on the northeastern slope of the Capitoline Hill near the Forum Romanum, the Tullianum was used as a jail or holding cell for short periods before a trial or execution. The holding cells are all above ground; the original underground prisons are an historic site and tourist attraction, the Tullianum was used as a jail or holding cell for short periods before a trial or execution. The holding cells are all above ground; the original underground prisons are an historic site and tourist attraction  
>  _pallium_ a cloak, semi-formal and easier to wear than the toga  
>  _garum_ fish sauce, a great Roman delicacy  
>  _Aethiopian_ an inhabitant of the continent of Aethiopia, especially a person with black skin (from Greek αἴθω + ὤψ (aitho "I burn" + ops "face")  
>  _Aksum_ city and province, previously the Kingdom of Aksum south of Kush (in the region of northern Ethiopia in the Tigray region)  
>  _advocatus_ a jurist who provides legal advice for clients and pleads for them in court (barrister)  
>  _rei_ pl. of _reus_ , the defendant in a trial, and slaves sentenced to slavery for crime  
>  _libertus_ freedman  
>  _the Palatine_ a term for the Imperial household, from the domus of the Emperor on the Palatine Hill  
>  _Liberalitas_ goddess or personification of generosity.  
>  _vis_ violence, force  
>  _vis privata_ violence against a private citizen  
>  _vis publica_ public violence, such as rioting and insurrection, a crime against the interests of the state and thus treasonous  
>  _servus poenae_ A free man sentenced to slavery through condemnation with capital punishment (death penalty, fight with wild beasts, forced labour in mines). He was considered a slave sine domino (without a master). If a slave was condemned to capital punishment, the ownership of his master lapsed. A servus poenae could not be freed. In certain cases, a sentence, even when not involving capital punishment, could impose on the condemned slave the additional penalty “ne manumittatur” which meant he could not be manumitted and remained a slave for life.  
>  _praetor_ a magistrate of Rome, both elected and appointed by the Emperor. Praetors are appointed as judges to judge serious cases  
>  _interrogatio_ In criminal trials, the question addressed by the court to the accused as to whether he pleads guilty or not. If he admits having committed the crime, or if he is silent, which is considered an admission, the proceedings are quickly brought to an end. Interrogatio also means the questioning of a witness.  
>  _tesserarius_ administrative assistant, officer of the watch, (like a U.K. corporal) Originally a Legionary rank, a junior to the optio, often assigned to jobs the senior officers do not want to do  
>  _tabula_ tablet  
>  _nexus_ a slave, taken for debt  
>  _peculium_ money or property held by a slave for their own use, given by their owner as pocket money or earned; still the property of their master but understood as belonging to the slave; in 2770auc the money deposited in the Peculium Fund is not accessible to the master and is normally used to pay for a slave’s freedom


End file.
